


Say a prayer for the wounded heart within

by Elisexyz



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Grant Ward Redemption, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Well more of a hopeful ending but still
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-08-19 21:43:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16542833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elisexyz/pseuds/Elisexyz
Summary: She should have known better than to hope that any kind of home would ever last.





	Say a prayer for the wounded heart within

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fill for the "Betrayal" prompt [on my Bad Things Happen Bingo card on Tumbl](http://heytheredeann.tumblr.com/post/179835059074/betrayal-fill-for-the-bad-things-happen-bingo)r. Just a good old soulmates AU because I needed it.

When she starts a new life and changes her name to Skye, she can’t help worrying, glancing at the black name tattooed on her wrist and trying to reason with herself that even if Grant had ‘Mary’ tattooed on him she would still recognize him, and everything would be okay.

Something in her crumbles in fear at the thought that that detail might be the excuse he needs to abandon her, the loophole that the universe will find to not let her be wanted even by the _one_ person who is supposed to love her above all else and need her just as badly as she needs somewhere to belong.

Sometimes she likes to think that maybe the reason why she can’t seem to feel at home anywhere is just that she and her soulmate are so closely bonded that she won’t ever feel alright until they are together like they are supposed to be; this makes her smile, because it means that somewhere, someday, she’ll be whole.

 

 

She has spent years staring at her wrist, waiting for him to show up, always a bit scared that it’ll turn to shit like everything else, but mostly excited at the idea of finding him, and this makes her think that the day when it happens should feel different— _special_.

Well, one _could_ probably consider somehow ‘special’ being kidnapped by the government and escorted into their secret quarters for questioning, but the absurd situation actually makes her soulmate one of the last thoughts on her mind.

When she locks eyes with an agent standing a few feet away from her, looking very displeased by her very existence, she mistakes the sudden increase of her heartrate for – very justified – fear.

Then he asks for her name.

“Skye,” she replies, easily, because by now Mary is nothing but a distant – and not so pleasant – memory.

The agent freezes on the spot, staring at her as if he’d never seen anything like it in his whole life. The thought comes at her easily, as if there was no other reasonable explanation, or as if she’d known it all along – maybe she had: people say that your subconscious knows way before you do.

“Are you Grant?” she asks, unable to mask the hopeful quiver in her voice.

There’ll be all the time in the world _later_ to laugh at the irony of her soulmate being a government toll bag, of their first encounter being a kidnapping, of _everything:_ right now what matters is that he’s _there_ and now that the shock is wearing off he’s looking at her like he _wants_ her.

A little less self-control, and she’d probably start crying right there.

 

 

She should have known better than to hope that any kind of home would ever last. It doesn’t matter that the fact that she and Grant belong together has been tattooed on their skin for years, it doesn’t matter that they are _supposed_ to be together: she should have known that she’s not supposed to find peace anywhere.

He doesn’t leave, not exactly. Maybe, at this point in her life, it would have been better if he had just straight up turned his back and abandoned her, because that’s something that she’s somehow learnt how to deal with.

Instead, he decides to go ahead and betray her and that little family that she gathered around her.

Instead, he lies to her, for _months_ , he allows her to get to know a version of him that’s mostly if not completely made up, and for _what_?

He tries to explain. He talks of Garrett and SHIELD abandoning him and needing to _save_ him— the only thing that Skye can hear is that he didn’t trust her enough to be honest with her, that he loves someone else more than her, that he’s choosing to leave her, because she’s not _enough_ , not even for him who’s supposed to need nothing more than her walking by his side to feel complete.

She should have guessed that it would have ended this way.

He looks for forgiveness on her face, and she only shows him grief and anger and disgust, because this is so _wrong_ , because he lied to her and worked with the person who got her _shot_ and even after that he still won’t _quit_ defending him – because almost killing his soulmate isn’t worth the capital punishment; because not even Grant believes that she’s worth keeping no matter what.

“Someday—someday you’ll understand.”

She looks at him with eyes full of tears and she’s hit by the crushing realization that she’s spent her whole life waiting for him to come and be her real home, but it turns out that he’s just like all the others.

She’ll stick with SHIELD, because they still love her. For now. It’ll end, someday, because now she’s _sure_ that it always does, but it’s not like she has ever known anything else besides moving from one temporary fix to another.

“No. I won’t.”

The soul-crushing hurt on his face doesn’t make her feel any better. Does suffering at the same time as your soulmate double the pain?

 

 

She grabs the gun. He has his back turned, she could end him in one simple gesture.

He’s trusting her, because apparently it hasn’t occurred to him that she could take a gun and kill him.

Her stomach burns with rage and her eyes still sting thinking of his betrayal, thinking of how he promised to never turn to his back on her – one of too many lies –, and a part of her wants so _bad_ to do it, half-hoping that wiping him away from the face of the Earth will somehow erase the bond between them.

Her hands tremble, and she knows as he starts turning around that she can’t do it. It’s against every law of nature, like trying to cut off your own arm— she _can’t_.

“Skye—” he says, slowly, raising his hands and looking a bit hurt and a bit confused at the threat.

She takes a sharp breath before shooting him in the leg. She winces as he falls, blood pumping insistently in her ears as she fights the urge to slide down on her knees and start sobbing her apologies – a part of her finds the strength to rejoice at the betrayal on his face: _You_ see _how that feels like?_

“Don’t follow me,” she orders, drily, heading out of the door and keeping her eyes straight ahead – she doesn’t think she could manage to leave if she wasted a second looking at him.

 

 

She doesn’t hear from him for a long while.

If it weren’t for her mark, as black as ever, and for the fact that she doesn’t feel any of the excruciating pain that people who lost their soulmates report to experience – even if, to be fair, she already lost him; be it to death or betrayal, she doesn’t know if it’s supposed to feel any different –, she’d think that he didn’t get away, that she _killed_ him.

But he’s alive. Her mark didn’t scar, so he’s still breathing, somewhere.

The fact that he hasn’t contacted her in months could probably only mean that he has given up, that her shooting him has driven the point home that there’s no room for forgiveness, that she’s not about to let him in and give him a chance to abandon her again.

Somehow, it still manages to hurt – enough that a part of her wants to run to him and beg him to do something to _fix_ it, to prove to her that he may have made all the wrong choices in the past, that he may have chosen Garrett over her, but he’s not going to leave her ever again.

Changing names is kind of a theme in her life, apparently. She went from Mary to Skye when she left the orphanage and she was finally free to be herself, and now she goes from Skye to Daisy partially to honour her father, a man who’s not really that good but who loves her with all his being and never stopped trying to be with her, partially to remind herself that that chapter of her life is _over_ now, that she’s no longer Grant’s, because he’s not hers – never has been, really.

‘Skye’ just doesn’t sound like her anymore.

 

He shows up at their base, hands up and way too at ease for someone who just walked right into a place where he’ll most likely get imprisoned. She probably should have guessed that he would reappear to screw up every plan she had to try and forget that she ever believed he’d be her happily ever after – a part of her has never stopped; but that part is Skye, and Skye no longer has a place in her life.

“I come bearing good news,” he announces, a grin on his face. He’s staring at her, because of course he is. Daisy stares back, her expression as blank as she can make it – her mark itches.

“Meaning?” Coulson asks, suspiciously. He’s not pointing a gun, but May is standing right next to him, Grant in the line of fire. Not to mention that Hunter and Bobbi are both armed as well, and Daisy could quake him into a wall if need be. She doesn’t even think he knows that, he’s been gone so long – but then again, he bypassed their security system without too much trouble, is believing that he kept an eye on them really that much of a stretch?

“Guess who made Head of Hydra?” Grant announces, his grin widening.

Daisy can’t really formulate a coherent thought on that. Her jaw is probably about to fall and hit he floor, because _what_? First of all, how? _Why_? But most importantly: why the hell is he bragging to _SHIELD_ about it?

(There’s also a corner of her mind that’s busy mourning that sudden, ten-seconds-long rush of hope that she experienced upon seeing him, because _maybe_ he’s finally decided to come back and be _good_ — he hasn’t, obviously.)

“Congratulations,” Coulson comments, after a long pause.

“You are not making me any less inclined to shoot you,” May warns, her finger on the trigger.

“Oh, come on, you wouldn’t want to waste such a valuable source of intel, would you?” Grant comments.

“Intel?” Coulson echoes.

Grant rolls his eyes, as if they were all being slow. “I’m one of the Heads of Hydra. I am _in_ , and in high places. I can help bringing it all down from within. If you don’t shoot me, that is,” he adds, briefly gesturing towards May.

Daisy can’t help the new wave of hope washing through her and all the maybes her mind starts formulating. Grant is looking at her again, and she isn’t sure if she can manage to stay neutral this time, so she looks away – which is probably just as telling.

“And why exactly would we trust you?” Coulson asks.

Grant shrugs. “Would I be here if not in good faith? I mean, you haven’t heard from me in months, I’m reasonably sure that hunting me down is not your top priority right now, I could have kept going on with my business and surprised you all when it was inevitable.”

“Why the change of heart?” May asks, in the tone of someone that isn’t really inclined to believe a word he says. Daisy finds herself vehemently agreeing with her in her head, claiming that he’s a liar and a traitor and that he’s not to be trusted – she probably makes these thoughts as loud and insisting as she can because she can’t seem to stop herself from instinctively believing that he’s trying to do better, and that maybe he’s doing it for _her_.

Sure enough, his eyes flicker to Daisy. Her heart skips a beat – _He’s playing you, he’s lying, again, don’t be fooled_.

Coulson sighs, nodding thoughtfully. “Alright. You’ve gained a trip to my office, the benefit of the doubt, and ten minutes to convince me that you are being honest and that you have a solid plan. Mostly because you haven’t caused me trouble for a while.”

At Coulson’s signal, May moves close to Grant, briefly checking to see if he’s carrying any weapons and then moving behind his back to escort him to Coulson’s office.

Daisy knows by the look Coulson throws her way that she’s not invited, and she isn’t really sure that she minds.

“Skye—” Grant tries to get her attention as she walks by, but she turns on her heels and leaves. She knows she shouldn’t dare hoping that Coulson will offer Grant a second chance and that he’ll prove to be worthy of it. She does anyway.

 

She catches him on his way out of Coulson’s office, almost two hours later. He’s not being held at gunpoint, even if Bobbi is watching him from a distance.

Her stomach twists, and she isn’t sure if it’s because of the expectation that she’ll receive good news and find out that there’s a second chance for them or because of the fear that she’s about to suffer his loss again – because she’s already hoping, in spite of herself, and there’s a good chance that this will end badly.

“Skye,” he calls, stopping in front of her, his lips twisting into a fond smile. Like everything is absolutely _fine_.

“It’s Daisy,” she states, her tone neutral.

He frowns in confusion. “What?”

“My name,” she explains, slowly. “It’s Daisy.”

His frown deepens. “I wasn’t gone that long,” he tries to joke, a bit hesitantly, a small grin on his face.

She shrugs. “I changed it. Daisy is my real name.” She notices his arm twitching, and she’s sure that if he wasn’t trained and so in control of his impulses he’d have reached for his mark. She can see clearly the moment in which the implication behind the name change actually sinks in, and the hurt on his face doesn’t make her feel any better than his affection did.

“I like Skye better,” he finally says, trying to smile but not quite managing it.

“Of course you do,” she scoffs. She attempts to turn around and leave at the sudden urge to get away from him, but he grabs her arm and she doesn’t have it in her to shove him off.

“Skye, wait—”

“Daisy,” she insists, without much else to say.

He pauses, staring at her for a few seconds before nodding. “Alright. Daisy,” he complies, his fingers still latched onto her arm. “I just wanted to— talk for a minute. Can we?”

“What do you think we have been doing until now?”

He snorts, amused. “Okay, then. I wanted to tell you— to let you know that I still love you.” It’s unfair how he can drop such a bombshell and be so casual about it. “I always will. I know I’ve let you down— I’m sorry, I never wanted you to get hurt, so this is me, trying to— fix my mess.” He pauses. “I’ve been working hard all this time to get to where I am now in Hydra, and I was just hoping that— I mean, when it’s all done, we could—” He shrugs, and his lips twist into a complicit smile. “Get a drink?”

She can’t help the small grin that shows up on her face as she catches the reference. It’s _really_ hard not to get her hopes up at that. It’s scary how easy it is for her to go back to hoping for an happy ending – it’s unfair how every molecule in her body is programmed to want, need and trust him.

“Maybe,” she finally concedes, and the relief on his face lifts a weight off her shoulders. “I’m sorry I shot you,” she adds, then, without thinking.

He smiles. “It’s okay,” he assures, moving a step closer as his hands go to her shoulders and he starts stroking them with his thumbs. She leans in on the touch, the air filling her lungs a bit more easily and the contact making her feel more at peace than she’s had in _so_ long. It’s easy to forget the anger, the fear and the betrayal when he’s close and those feelings seem so far away.

“I can call— every now and then?” he offers, just a bit hesitantly.

It’s fortunate that this is the only thing that he thought of asking, because having him near feels so _good_ that if he tried to convince her to go with him to be a double agent in Hydra she probably wouldn’t think twice about accepting – anything to not feel that lonely and cold ever again.

“I’d like that,” she smiles.

When he smiles back, her stomach ties in knots at the familiarity of it – she knows that she’s once again ready to trust him completely, and she can only hope that it won’t end in heartbreak, this time.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including: 
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> If you don’t want a reply, for any reason, feel free to sign your comment with “whisper” and I will appreciate it but not respond!


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